


Nothing To Say

by katie_o



Category: The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Season 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:08:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21775741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katie_o/pseuds/katie_o
Summary: "I can't think of anything funny to say." That one line had carried them back from the club, back to this rundown Florida hotel with garish neon lights playing across the pool and the concrete and her, and he thought he could burst.
Relationships: Lenny Bruce (The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel)/Miriam "Midge" Maisel
Comments: 6
Kudos: 95





	Nothing To Say

"I can't think of anything funny to say."   


That one line had carried them back from the club, back to this rundown Florida hotel with garish neon lights playing across the pool and the concrete and _her_ , and he thought he could burst. Thought he was going to do something stupid, wanted to do something stupid. Wanted to say something more than "you're lovely", more than "it was sensational" when what he meant was "you were sensational".   


And now they were here, staring each other down by inches with an open hotel door between them, and it played on repeat in his head. _You're lovely you're lovely you're lovely._ He couldn't quite conjure up the bravado he'd like to, had fumbled his keys out of his pocket and addressed it more lamely than he thought he was able- nothing funny to say, nothing- but he had a feeling his bravado wouldn't fit here anyway, no better than Midge fit in this tucked-away corner of this shitty hotel with numbers missing from the door and his coat draped around her shoulders. She was holding his gaze just as she had in the club, and it was that steadiness that had ruined him. Whatever they did now, they were doing it. Buzzed, but not wasted, exhausted, but only just enough to allow whatever this was to run all the way to his door. The back of his neck pricked with the memory of her hand teasing through his hair. She was still staring.   


Another glance inside. Another glance at her. One more up, up, up, to the dim twinkling of stars wavering above them. Her gaze didn't waver. The corner of his mouth quirked up, and so did hers. God, but he couldn't think of a time either of them had shut up for this long before. Had it been seconds? Minutes? Half an hour? Nothing funny to say between two comics with a competitive streak and wit enough for four. His mind scanned for something, anything, to quip as his head told him to shut the fuck up for once because this wasn't something he would allow himself to cheapen. He was standing under the stars with his key in his hand and a cute Upper West Side girl a breath away with the heavy Florida air bearing down on them both.   


One more glance inside. Against his will he rubbed his upper lip, a nervous tic that had made its way into his set and back out of it again. He felt her breathe in as much as saw it, felt the words before they left her mouth- 

"I'm gonna get a cab." 

"I can get you one." His hand reaching out, almost brushing his own coat on her shoulders. She ducked her head, still smiling, but whatever fragile peace they'd held was gone. She didn't need him, didn't need his jacket or his cab or his motel- let's call it what it was- but she was smiling. Smiling even as she walked away, even as she shrugged his jacket off her shoulders and tossed it back to him, even as he felt every inch between them as something valuable lost. 

"Catch."   


And there it was, relaxing back out into their banter. He'd be lying if he said he didn't miss it, but he couldn't parse which he'd rather- banter or that silence. He was still lying. He knew. And in the way that a man digging his own grave hefted the shovel, he tossed his jacket back over his shoulders and spoke before he could stop himself. 

"Hey." His mind whirred, and he adjusted his arms in the sleeves as he steadied himself, a moment to step back onto the wire she'd left him on. Her dress swirled around her as she turned back to look at him. He drew his jacket tighter around himself, leaned against the whitewashed wall- there his bravado was. It still felt wanting, too thin for the words it was tasked to make casual.

"Maybe someday." His hand was back at his mouth and he hoped to God it was endearing and not just another crack in this facade. "Before I'm dead." And now the silence was back and suffocating and he knew how ridiculous it was to hang himself on a moment, but he did it all the same.   
And then it came.

"It's a date."

He let his gaze follow her as it always did as she strode away, spinning on one collected heel away from him and onto everything better. He settled back against the wall. It scratched against his shoulder blades as he looked out over the water, away from her and towards everything that could be still. Before he's dead, he mused. He was sure he would have a bit of time before that. 

**Author's Note:**

> first time posting here- hopefully I did them a bit of justice.


End file.
